You Two Argue Like An Old Married Couple
by Anrheithwyr
Summary: This was written for the 'One Day' Challenge by DarkLady98, with Ron & Hermione over the course of 10 years. I do not own Harry Potter!
1. March 14, 2003 Food

_**A/N: This was written for the 'One Day' challenge by DarkLady98. **_

_**/**_

_March 14, 2003 _

Hermione Granger handed her fiance another magazine. He sighed, placing it on the already disturbingly large stack in front him, as he flicked through a catalog full of nothing but silverware.

"I wish someone had told me there was so much planning involved when it came to weddings. I would have insisted we just, I dunno, elope or something." he grumbled, handing her a cutout of a dish set, which she rolled her eyes at, shaking her head.

"Too silver. And why wouldn't we have a wedding? Everyone else did." she asked, taking the cutout back and studying it closer in detail. Hermione had been doing this for ages, dismissing something and then snatching it back, insisting that they "shouldn't be too rash" on decorations.

"After all, we only get married once." she said, kissing him lightly on the nose.

"Hopefully," he muttered, smirking at his fiancee's frown. "'Mione, I'm joking. Calm down. Of course we're getting married. And your mum and my mum are going to bawl about it and Harry's going to tease us forever about how he just _knew _this would happen and most importantly, you and I are getting married. I'm just saying, why do we have to go over every little detail? I mean, who cares what we serve for dinner? Who cares what colour the chairs are?"

"I do! _I _care! I care about the food we serve and the colour of the chairs! Don't you understand that it's every girl's dream to have a fabulous wedding?"

"Yeah, but really? Can't we just, I dunno, serve Chocolate Frogs and Butterbeer and then say 'I do' and let it be done?"

Hermione glared at him, getting up from her seat. She huffed, collecting an arm's load of wedding magazines. "No, we can _not_! That is not acceptable food for a wedding, no matter who you are. I want it to be something wonderful, Ron, not rushed and certainly not a cheapskate wedding!"

"Cheapskate? I'm _not cheapskating_ our wedding, Hermione! I'm simply just saying that maybe all this," he waved his hand around at the table, overfilled with brochures and cutouts and catalogs. "is a bit too much!"

Tears rushed to Hermione's eyes and she brushed at them, angry. "Well, maybe we just shouldn't get married at all, then! Because, _clearly, _I'm not _good _enough for a decent wedding! Oh no, we just need to 'let it be done'! It's not a bachelor party, Ron! It's a bloody wedding, and if you can't see the importance of a wedding, then I'm done!" Tossing the papers in her hands into the air, she stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Ron winced, hearing the flat door smash shut as well. It wasn't exactly a sturdy door to begin with. He got up, clearing up the mess. He didn't understand why Hermione was so stressed out by something so simple as _wedding food!_ Sure, maybe he ought to have been a little more understanding, but she could have as well.

Besides, eventually she would be back. For all their arguments and fights, Ron and Hermione could never stay too seperated for long. This was only one of many stressful days looking for the 'perfect' wedding décor. Only one of many days that one of them would walk away in tears, doors slamming and faces red.

/

She came back blushing and embarrassed. She wrung her hands as she came up to the door, face flushing. Knocking on the door, she craned her head, avoiding looking at the red-headed man who came to greet her.

"Oh stuff it," she muttered, pushing past him to come inside. He stifled a laugh, following after her.

"Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to move in with me permanently. After all, where else could you go?"

"My parents, I guess. Or Luna's. Ginny and Harry would let me crash, I bet." she retorted, sitting down on the musty, once tan sofa. "Don't you ever wash this thing?" she asked, waving a hand at all the stains on the cushions. The sofa was second hand from Charlie's early days as a dragon-keeper in Romania, where almost everything he owned had been jostled from at least a dozen different owners.

"Nah," Ron said, sitting across from her. "Why bother? I'll end up getting a new one eventually, right? Not like you'll let any kids into a place like _this,_ huh?"

"Hm," she muttered, brushing imaginary crumbs from her skirt. She still couldn't look him in the eye, or acknowledge their earlier argument. Her face was still flushed, Ron noted. He had been right. It had only been four hours that she wandered the streets, crying on a bit about how Ron didn't appreciate her, then stopping in a public toilet, calming herself down.

"Listen, I'm sorry about freaking out," she said, staring at the wall behind his head. "I was acting stupid and childish. I don't need to panic so much about the wedding right now, seeing as we won't be having it for a while."

"Yeah, well, I guess I shouldn't treat it like such a joke. I mean, if it's important to you, then I'll go along with it."

"But we're still not going to _just _serve Chocolate Frogs and Butterbeer, right?"

"Of course not, Mione. We'll have the best food in the world on your wedding day."


	2. March 14, 1997 Shout

_**Totally based off real events. I'm turning Ron into a jerk. **_

_March 14, 1997 _

She hated watching them together, wrapped up in each others arms. Sure, there was trouble in paradise, and had been since Ron was poisoned, but they were _still _together. Hermione had expected Ron to break up with Lavender already. It wasn't as if this relationship would last. It couldn't last. At least, that's what she told herself, every time she saw them together.

"Hey," said Harry, dropping onto the seat next to her. He looked tired, exhausted. She knew he was still having constant nightmares on top of school and the private sessions with Dumbledore. Harry still blamed himself for Sirius' death, despite everything. "You okay?" he asked, giving her a concerned smile.

"Yeah. I just...you know," she said, waving her hand at Ron and Lavender, sprawled in a corner, _still _kissing. "I guess I just figured, after everything, that maybe they'd break up,"

"Why?" smirked Harry, trying to hide his laughter. He had been pushing for his friends to start dating for several months now, claiming he just knew it was destined. Mostly, this had been a joke, but it still made Hermione blush and hit him on the shoulder, denying everything. But still, watching Ron, with _her_ and not Hermione, it tore a hole in her heart. "Because you're in _loooooove?_"

"Shut up," she laughed, pushing him playfully. Harry also laughed, grinning at her lazily. Getting an idea, she leaned closer to Harry, whispering in his ear.

"Pretend like I just told a hilarious joke. Laugh as loud as you can," she said, glancing at Ron, who was now even more wrapped up in Lavender.

"Huh?" asked Harry, blinking owlishly at her.

"Just do it, Harry," she hissed, still watching Ron.

Looking confused, he did as she said, laughing hysterically. They both did, as if competing for the more annoying laugh. It was so loud and obvious, Hermione was surprised no one called their fake. Instead, Ron and Lavender broke apart, staring at them. They weren't the only ones.

"Ok, now I'll touch your knee," said Hermione, looking at a spot over Ron's head intensely. She didn't want to be accused of watching them.

"Why? What are you on to, Hermione?" he asked, then followed her gaze. "Oh. Trying to make him jealous?"

"No," she said, blushing. "don't be ridiculous."

"_You're _being petty." he retorted, but allowed her to touch his knee anyway. Ron had gotten to his feet, saying something to Lavender. She looked angry. No, not angry, _furious. _Her face was red and she stomped off to another seat, dropping heavily as Ron headed to where Harry and Hermione were sitting.

"What are you guys talking about?" asked Ron, sitting between them, pressing them to opposite ends of the couch. Harry covered his mouth, trying not to laugh. Hermione gave him a warning look over Ron's shoulder.

"Oh, nothing. What were you and Lav-Lav doing?" she retorted, wishing _she _was the one who could kiss him in front of everybody, not care who sees. Ron blushed, sputtering for a few seconds. He waved his hands absent-mindedly.

"You know. Uh, uh. I mean, uh, yeah. But, I think it's, uh, kind of dying. There's not as much there, not anymore."

"You mean you finally realised that you need someone for more than just snogging?" asked Hermione, raising an eyebrow. Harry looked ready to bolt, expecting a fight to break out at any second.

"What? We _don't _just snog! We talk. Sometimes. I mean, maybe we _mostly _snog, but she's a really good snogger," Ron said defensively. Harry's head dropped to his hands, snickering and turning redder by the second.

"Really? Is that _really _all you care about? How someone snogs?" shrieked Hermione, jumping up, glaring at the red-head. "You are so tactless!"

"Me? What did I do?" Ron yelled back, frowning. "All I said was Lavender was a good snogger! You act like I've insulted you somehow!"

"Oh, wow, Ron, have you _just _now noticed! Even Harry's noticed AND HE'S A BLOODY GUY, JUST LIKE YOU!"

"Hey!" muttered Harry defensively.

"OH, REALLY? THEN WHY WERE YOU OVER HERE FLIRTING _WITH _HARRY IF YOU LIKE ME SO MUCH?"

"BECAUSE YOU NEVER NOTICE ANYTHING!" screamed Hermione, crying now. Seeing the situation had gotten way out of hand, Harry tried to get in between them.

"Hey, guys? Can you, uh, stop shouting? Everyone's watching."

"WE'RE NOT SHOUTING!" the two shouted in unison.


	3. March 14, 1992 Never

_March 14, 1992_

For the most part, the three First Years were inseparable. You couldn't see one without the other two more than just a few feet away. They constantly tried to be paired up together in class (to their dismay, this did not always work, especially if Snape was the teacher) and sat in the Common Room working on homework, the two boys somewhat reluctantly. Sure, occasionally there were fights, mostly great shouting matches between Ron and Hermione, with Harry off hiding somewhere, but they were friends. Best friends. That was all they were. _Friends. _

Ron and Harry walked down the hallway, glad it was a Saturday and there were no classes. Snape had been on the warpath recently, assigning _mountains _of homework. Ron reckoned the man cackled himself to sleep at night. Harry agreed as he rubbed at his head, wishing it would stop _prickling _so much. The massive amounts of homework hadn't helped his head either.

Then, Ron switched over to another one of his favorite topics: last night's dinner. Honestly, the boy seemed to only have a one track mind, hopping from subject to subject with no discernable connection that anyone else could find.

"It's just, I wonder who's _making _the food, because when I find out, I'm going to shake their hand and demand an autograph. This stuff is amazing." Harry nodded at all the appropiate times, not really concentrating on what was going on. If he acted like he was listening, then Ron would eventually shut up. They walked down the hall, grateful for a quiet day to just wander around until Hermione came back to yell at them for wasting time.

Until they bumped into Malfoy and his thick-body cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. The three Slytherins were standing around menacingly, almost as if _waiting _for some poor Gryffindor (namely their favorite target, Neville) to walk by for them to tease.

"Hey Weasel, Potty!" cried Malfoy, looking pleased. He had prey. Now he had to wind them up, drive them up a wall. It was his favorite activity, besides simply just taking candy away from two year olds. "Where's Buck-Toothed Granger? Hiding her ugly face in a book, again?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Ron, glaring at the blonde Slytherin. "Just leave us alone." While Ron had spent most of September and October teasing Hermione himself, he was very quick to defend the girl from anyone else. Like a guard dog.

"Oooh, why so defensive, Weasel? Protecting your _girlfriend?_" taunted Malfoy, his cronies laughing behind him. Of course they did. Everything Malfoy did was worthy of praise. Why wouldn't it be?

"She's not my girlfriend, Malfoy. Stuff it, before I stuff you into a closet." threatened Ron, scrambling for his wand. Behind him, Harry had already slipped his own stick of wood out of his pocket, holding it tightly in clenched hand.

"Oh yeah?" laughed Malfoy, wrinkling up his nose and making a face. "I'd like to see you try. You two are useless without "Little Miss Know It All" around to teach you spells that any five year old can do."

"Shut up, Malfoy!" yelled Harry, raising his wand high enough so that the blonde could see it. Immediately, Malfoy and cronies stiffened up, glancing at the wand. While they pretended to be tough, none of them were all that good at dueling.

"Only if Weasel here admits he likes Granger!" said Malfoy, stil watching Harry.

"I don't like Hermione! I could _never _like Hermione! That's disgusting! NEVER!" yelled Ron, glarinf at Malfoy, raising his own wand. Malfoy, however, smirks, staring at something over their shoulders. As Ron and Harry turn to look, Malfoy slipped off, running down the hallway, fleeing for his life. Hermione stood there, looking put out as Harry went an odd shade and stuffed his wand back into his robed.

"Am I that _annoying _to you?" she asked and her voice shook with unshed tears, wobbling.

"Wait, Hermione, you don't understand," began Harry, stepping forward, trying to prevent another argument.

"Stop _defending _him, Harry. You heard him-_never!_ He could _never _like me!" she yelled and turned to run off, crying.

"I don't understand girls," Ron muttered to himself, stuffing his wand into his pocket. "Now what do I do? She thinks I hate her. Why are girls so bloody weird?" he said, scuffing his shoes on the floor.

"Dunno," said Harry, wishing he could smack his two friends into seeing the truth.


	4. March 14, 1994 Truth or Dare

_**It has been a while, my friends. **_

_March 14, 1994_

Being teenage boys, along with Gryffindors, they were often coming up with wild ideas for stuff to do. Among these is trying every (and I do mean EVERY) Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans they could find, to making Neville sneak a firework into Transfiguration just to watch it go off. Once, Ron had even tried to poke the Whomping Willow with the longest stick he could find. All of these ideas (and countless more, dropped into a mental wastebin as either insane, impossible, or just plain ridiculous) spawned from a little game called 'Truth or Dare'. Harry and Dean, having grown up amongst Muggles, were very familiar with the rules (Harry a little too familiar, with his cousin being who he was, namely a foul git) had quickly explained the rules to the other three boys. Thus, the regular Saturday Night Truth or Dare Fest was born. They had done almost anything they could think of-stink pellets, dying Seamus' hair, going into the girl's toilets, stealing Percy the Prefect's (Now Head Boy) underwear.

But, also being thirteen and under the impression of a thing we like to call cooties, one of the few things they hadn't done is kiss a girl. The idea had been brought up several times, but so far, no one had taken the bet. Besides, the others complained, there weren't any _cute _girls to kiss. So, the girls lucked out and the boys didn't make fools of themselves. Until tonight.

"That is _really _gross, mate," grumbled Seamus, coming back from the bathroom, still clutching his toothbrush. "I'll be _Scourifgy_-ing it for weeks and it will still taste like your nasty socks. "You are sick," he said firmly, settling down on his bed. He shot one final glare at his best mate, Dean, who merely grinned back and mimed brushing his teeth. "Alright, Weasley, your turn. Truth or Dare?"

"Uh, Dare?" mumbled Ron, keeping a close eye on Seamus' toothbrush. He knew that the more sugar everyone got into their systems, the wilder the dares became. Usually, it ended up with Seamus or Harry eating or smelling something terribly nasty (Harry had once had to spend ten minutes sniffing what Ron swore up and down were Crabbe's socks) and they all went to bed, disgusted and a little rowdy, glad to have proved that _they _were worthy of being Gryffindors. Well, they were _thirteen. _You had to excuse them, just a bit.

"Alright, Weasley. I dare you to...kiss Granger!" declared Seamus, giving the ginger a nasty grin. Ron blanched, going pale under his freckles. He shook his head frantically, looking for an excuse to say no. _Any _excuse.

"She's probably gone to bed already. You know Hermione, early to bed, early to rise and all that stuff. Besides, it's not like we can go into the girls' dorm, right?"

"No, I saw her downstairs, in the Common Room." said Dean. "She's just studying. Go on, Weasley, or are you _afraid_?"

"Why don't _you _kiss her, then, Dean?"

"Not my dare." he replied.

Sighing, Ron got up with the air of someone facing an unwinnable war and trudged down the stairs with Neville as his witness. Of course, the other three snuck down to watch anyway. Weasley kissing a girl? _Anyone _kissing a girl? Who _wouldn't _want to watch?

Hermione sat casually at one of the many (usually unoccupied) desks, hunched over a Charms essay not due until the following Wednesday. Rolling his eyes at his obsessive friend, he nervously took a seat next to her.

"Hey, Hermione," he said, trying to sound casual and relaxed, like his older brothers when _they _talked to girls. When they, no doubt, _kissed _girls. "How's it going?"

"Fine." she replied shortly, not even looking up. Ron groaned to himself. How was he supposed to kiss her if she didn't _look _at him? "Did you want something, Ron?" she asked, glancing at him momentarily before scrunching over her paper.

"Um, yeah. I'm supposed to do this dare thing and, uh, it sort of involves you."

"Me? What, do they want you to do my homework?"

"Uh, no. Not quite." Suddenly feeling a surge of courage, he leaned over, kissing her on the cheek noisily before springing to his feet. Grabbing Neville's hand, he dragged the boy back to the staircase, where their roommates stood, half shocked and half laughing.

"That's cheating!" Dean declared, still slightly bewildered.

"Never said I had to kiss her on her _mouth_!" Ron said, clattering up the stairs.

Still at her desk, Hermione put a hand up to her cheek, eyes wide. "Oh. _That _kind of dare," she muttered to herself, oblivious to her homework on the table, or the amused looks from Fred and George across the room. "Well, that was...interesting." she decided, shaking her head. "And quick. Guys are weird." She shook her head again and bent over her paper, trying to ignore the slight blush on her cheeks.

_**/**_

_**All dares were based off real Truth or Dares I did with my 'guy pals'. The disgusting little pervs that they are. Love you guys! (You know, as friends.) **_


	5. March 14, 2006 Calories

_**In my version of the world, Rose was born on March 17. (shrug) Poor Mione. 3 more days. **_

_March 14, 2006 _

Nine months pregnant and hungry, Hermione Weasley (previously Granger) waddled into the kitchen of the flat she shared with her husband of two and a half years. It was hot and stuffy inside, even with the windows open and all the fans on. She wore nothing but the curtain, ripped off from the living room window, having decided to go for a 'Sound of Music' sort of feel, to ignore the heat pulsating through her body. If Ron didn't loved her hair so much, and known it wouldn't help in the long run, she probably would have cut it all off just to cool down.

Of course, everyone kept insisting it was _part of being pregnant _and she would _get used to it, by the second baby_, but right now she was nine months pregnant, hormonal, and hungry as hell. She opened the fridge and glanced in, not seeing much. Her stomach growled, again, reminding her that she still had two people to feed.

"Yes, yes, I remember you," she grumbled at the large bulge that had become her stomach. "And I also remember how you like to jump on Mummy's insides and make Daddy sick with the stuff I eat." She laughed, remembering her husband's look of disgust the other day when she had eaten a turkey sandwich with graham crackers and grapes shoved between the slices.

"_Are you really going to eat that, Mione?" he asked, wrinkling his nose at the sandwich. She glanced down at it, then shrugged taking a bite. _

"_Tastes all right," she said, smiling. _

"_Looks gross." he replied, kissing her on the forehead. "But, I suppose if it's because you're pregnant and this isn't going to be a regular occurrence, it's okay." _

Now, she pulled out some ham and whipped cream. Then, raiding the cupboards, she found several biscuits and some gravy in a bottle. She dropped the ham and biscuits on a plate and poured the whip and gravy all over it. Aware of how disgusting the concoction looked, she grabbed a fork and began eating anyway. A pregnant woman eats whatever she could, after all.

"What is that?" asked Ron, wandering into the kitchen, wearing his old Chudley Cannons shirt and boxers. Both had gotten used to wearing little clothing around each other, having shared a bed since they were eighteen. After a while, it became nonplus to see Ron wandering around in little to no clothing. "And what are you wearing?"

"Food. Curtain." she said simply, going back to her food.

"Huh. And why?"

"Hot. Hungry."

"On one word sentences now, are we, Mione?" laughed Ron, handing her some water. He looked down distatefully at her meal. "That's horrible, Hermione. Really awful. I ought t take a picture, just to show you how awful. Besides, do you _know _how many _calories _are probably in that meal?"

"Since when have you been interested in calories, Ronald?" Hermione snorted, taking another bite. She opened her mouth, giving him a nice look at the chewed up monstrosity that was her 'food'.

"Oh, uh, just figured it would be good to make sure I don't, you know, gain weight."

Hermione burst out laughing, earning strange looks from her husband. "You? Concerned about your _weight? _Don't make me laugh! First off, you're Ron-bleeding-Weasley, for Merlin's sake! You eat food like it's air itself! Second, if anyone in this family is fat, _I am_. I'm pregnant! _I'm _the size of a whale! And you're concerned about getting fat?" She shook her head, laughing wildly.

"Well, yeah. Not exactly like I'm going to stay skinny forever, like that prat Harry. Besides, you're not fat, Mione. You're pregnant. In a few months, you'll be as thin as ever."

"Ron Weasley, you are mad. Completely mad, do you know that? Completely, utterly bleeding mad."

Ron gave her a sheepish look, sitting down across from her at the table. "Yeah, well. You married me."

"Yes, yes I did. Want a bite?" she asked, offering a bite of her concoction. At Ron's look of horror, she laughed again, leaning over and kissing him on the nose.

_**Never actually had a baby. (Well, I am 14) Tell me if I was wrong on anything. The 'meal' Hermione eats is based off what a cousin ate when she was pregnant. ICK! **_


	6. March 14, 2009 Daisy

_**I always thought Hermione's favorite flowers were daisies and roses. Hence the name. **_

_March 14, 2009 _

"Mummy, Mummy, lookit!" cried their not-quite three year old daughter, shoving a particularly big flower into her mother's lap. It's a white-petalled flower, bright and bigger than Hermione's palm. "It's a flowuh!"

"A daisy," Hermione said, looking at the flower in her hand. A few inches away, lounging on the blanket with the nine-month-old Hugo, Ron inspected the flower as well.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Hermione said, smiling between her daughter and husband.

"Just like you," said Ron, leaning over and kissing her on the nose. Rose shrieked wildly and offered her own nose for a kiss. Grinning, Ron kissed Rose on the nose and forehead, then began tickling her, emitting giggles from the girl. Hugo cooed softly from his spot on the blanket and Rose looked at her brother with a sweet smile, too young to have truly made up her mind on the baby before her.

"Hugo want tickuh, too, Daddy! Tickuh Hugo!" she insisted and Ron, laughing, lightly ran his fingers over Hugo's bare stomach.

"Why don't you go find some more flowers for Mummy?" Ron suggested lightly. Rose nodded eagerly, leaping up. She took off, pausing every few minutes to sniff at a flower here or there, or pull one from the ground. Hermione smiled, kissing her husband on the cheek.

"Remember when we used to come out here with Harry and Ginny? And we'd all lay on a really big quilt and just talk for hours?" she sighed, flopping back onto the blanket.

"You mean just last month?" asked Ron, amused.

"Yeah." laughed Hermione. "Feels like ages ago, though. Can't believe I'm a mum. Even with Rose almost three years old, I still keep finding myself feeling like a teenager."

"You're still as cute as when you were a teenager. What was that, thirty years ago?" teased Ron. Hermione smacked his arm, making a face.

"It was no more than ten and you know it." She ran her fingers through her hair. "It's been ten years. Gosh. Can you believe it?"

"No, not really. Mostly, I try to pretend like it was just yesterday and we're all still at Hogwarts, panicking about homework and getting jealous about who is dating who."

"Remember the first time you kissed me?"

"When? During the Battle?"

"No, in our Third Year. You kissed me on the cheek." Hermione raised her hand to her cheek, a dream, far away look on her face. "You looked ready to pee your pants." She smiled. "And then, when you proposed to me five years ago, after four years of dating, I felt just as giddy as that night in the Common Room when the other boys dared you to kiss me."

Ron blushed. "You know about that?" Hermione nodded. "Does it make a difference about the kiss at all?" She shook her head, looking at Rose thoughtfully.

"No. I don't think so." She shook her head again. "And if you told me that you only kissed me because you wanted to impress them, it wouldn't change anything either. Maybe. I suppose that's what guys do? Impress each other by doing dumb things?"

Ron blushed and then leaned in, kissing her deeply on the mouth. When they both pulled away, gasping, Hermione gave Ron a longing look.

"I wasn't trying to impress anyone _this _time. This one is all for you. And so is this one," he said, drawing her into another deep kiss. They broke apart, grinning just like they had ten years ago, after their first true kiss.

Just then, Rose threw herself into her mother's lap, more daisies in her hands and pockets. "Can we make another daisy chain, Mummy?" she asked, handing her mother the flowers.

"Sure, sweetie. I'd love to." Behind the two girls, Ron picks up a squawling Hugo, grabbing a bottle. "I'll always make daisy chains with you."

_**I figure, hey, not everything important is going to happen today. Just these sporadic, sweet little moments that mean nothing to anyone else but everything to them. That's what we live for. **_


	7. March 14, 1998 Radio

_**They listened to Potterwatch a lot, as well as the regular radio. Sorry, Harmony fans, but Harry didn't need to dance with Hermione. (Used the HPLexicon Calendar)**_

_March 14, 1998 _

Somewhere, in the back of the tent, Harry rattles around with pots and pans, mumbling to himself. Ever since their visit to Mr. Lovegood, Harry had become obsessed with the idea of the Hallows, mumbling to himself about it. It even seemed to haunt his dreams. It seemed to take up his entire train of thought, torn between the Horcruxes and Hallows. Ron and Hermione worried about him constantly, shooting worried looks at him as they sat together.

But, for a few minutes, sitting outside the tent, they could pretend it was just the two of them, together. There were inches, feet, between them. They did not touch each other, but sat on either end of the tent flap, just talking. Neither seemed to mind the breeze or the space between them. They had been friends for, seeminly, forever.

"What's your favorite colour?" Ron asks, tearing at blades of grass, tossing each strip into a quickly growing pile. They had been chatting, just chatting casually, for almost an hour, asking each other mundane, sometimes ridiculous questions.

"Blue," she said immediately, blushing slightly. "Like-like the ocean sort of blue. What's yours? Maroon?" she teased.

"No. Yellow, I think. Like butter." Hermione nodded, lightly tapping his leg with her shoe. "It's too bloody quiet," he grumbled. "I think we ought to, at least, listen to the radio."

"Because you don't listen to it twenty-four seven already?" said Harry casually walking by, hands shoved into his pockets. He tossed them the wireless before wandering back deeper in. Hermione laughed as Ron flicked the wireless on, spinning between stations.

"What's your favorite song? Muggle song." asked Hermione. "Mine's Ring of Fire, Johnny Cash. My dad and I, we sing it to each other all the time. We're not very good, my dad and I, but it's fun anyway. Drives my mum crazy when we do it."

"Oh, I dunno. We usually don't listen to Muggle songs. Usually, Mum just has the wireless on Celestina Warbeck all the time. She drives me crazy."

"We'll have to fix that. As soon as possible, I'm making you listen to _all _my dad's records. You'll love them. And him." Just then, the radio flipped to a Muggle station, the announcer talking on and on about the dark weather and strange thunderstorms. Of course, these were really giants and Dementors, but the less the Muggles knew, the better. At least, that was the usual belief of the Ministry.

"And next, by Johnny Cash, 'Ring of Fire'." said the announcer, making Hermione pause.

"Wow. That was weird."

_'Love is a burning thing and it makes a fiery ring. Bound by wild desire, I fell into a ring of fire.'_

"What kind of song is that?" asked Ron, scrunching his nose at the song. "Ring of fire?"

"He's just talking about how love is real strong and powerful and it makes you do strange things you wouldn't normally."

"Like what? Dance on tables? Act drunk? Have whiny, stinky kids? That doesn't sound fun." mumbled Ron, not seeing Hermione's hurt look.

"It's just a song, Ronald. It doesn't mean anything." she said, standing up suddenly. "At least, not to _all _of us."

"Did I say something?" asked Ron, perplexed. "Oh, listen, Hermione, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."

"You just said you wouldn't want to be in love." Hermione retorted, watching Ron flinch. "I thought, just maybe, you grew up a little, but apparently, you're still some little kid who thinks being 'in love' means having kids right away. Guess what, Ron, it doesn't. It can also mean doing nice things with people and singing dumb songs way off-key or going on a date that goes completely awful, but it's okay, because you know there'll be others." She swiped at her eyes, angered at the rebellious tears that sprung up.

Ron gave her a shocked look. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean anything, honest. Listen, it's me, Ron. The guy with the emotional range of a teaspoon? Remember?"

"Yeah, clearly." Hermione snapped, heading inside, not even looking at him. "And clearly, you're still the guy who just _walks out _on their friends as says completely idiotic things without thinking at all."

"Sorry?"

"Just leave me alone, Ron. I don't want to talk right now."

'_I fell into a burning ring of fire. I went down, down, down as the flames went higher. And it burns, burns, burns, the ring of fire. The ring of fire.' _

_**Don't complain about the random smatterings of Harry. Ron and Hermione are his best friends. When they're alone, he's sometimes what they talk about. **_

_**(Ring of Fire is totally my favorite song. For some reason, I always think of this as the Romione song.) **_


	8. March 14, 2013 Greece

_**Making up for slacking off. Gonna try and do as much as I can. **_

_March 14, 2013 _

"You know where I've always wanted to go?" Hermione commented casually one day in 2013. She and her husband, Ron, were clattering around in the back yard, their six year old daughter and four year old son digging holes with plastic shovels. Hermione wiped at her forehead, feeling the sweat trickle down her back.

"No, where?" asked Ron, looking up from where he is planting daisies, more than a little apprehensive. The last time she had asked something like this, Ron had ended up spending the weekend with Harry, taking care of the five kids between them.

"Greece."

"Greece?" Ron repeated, giving her a puzzled look. "As in Athens, Greece, with the gods and weird flying horses?"

Hermione laughed cheerfully. "Not sure about the gods and flying horses part, but yeah, definitely Greece."

"And would we go together to Greece? I'd rather not find out this is another adventure involving you and Ginny puttering off to Greece and leaving Harry and I alone with the kids. "

"The two of us, or the four of us? Do you think Rose and Hugo want to come?"

"Couldn't hurt to ask, could it?" He turned to look at Rose. "Hey, Rosie, want to go to Greece with us?"

Her small red head popped up, smeared with dirt, but grinning. "Yeah! Let's go right now!"

"Right now, right now!" echoed Hugo, jumping up and down. Ron and Hermione chuckled and turned back to the flowers.

"Guess we'll have to take them, now." sais Ron, pretending to sigh deeply. "Shame. We could have had some _alone _time." He waggled her eyebrows at Hermione, who giggled and shoved him.

"Our kids are right there, Ronald Weasley!" she managed to choke out, nearly collapsing in the dirt.

"So, are we leaving right now, or did'ja want to plan all this out?"

"I was thinking we should just drop our shovels right now and just pop on over to Greece. Maybe grab a few extra clothes on the way, or maybe just leave with nothing more than the clothes on our back."

"You're joking, Mione. You have to be." said Ron, his eyebrows disappearing into the fringe of his hair. "What in the name of Merlin has happened to you?"

"Well, I think it might have something to do with meeting these two boys on a train one day and eventually becoming friends with them and they got me into all sorts of crazy things like freeing dragons and one day, one of the boys asked me to marry him and we did and had two beautiful children."

"Hah bloody hah." Ron muttered, kissing Hermione's jaw lightly.

"I thought you married Daddy." said Rose bemusedly. Ron and Hermione smiled softly at each other. "What happened to Daddy?"

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" yelled Hugo again. "What happened to Daddy?"

"Daddy was a very bad boy and was left home while everyone else went to Greece." said Hermione cheerfully, winking at Rose. "And when Mummy and Rosie and Hugo came back, Daddy said he was very sorry for saying Mummy had no sense of humor, but Mummy made him sleep on the couch anyway."

"Oh, joy." Ron gulped.

"I love you, Ronald." Hermione said in a sing-song voice, handing him another seed. "And you don't have to sleep on the couch."

"Love you, too, Mione."


	9. March 14, 2024 Unicorn

_**Also in my mind, Rose learned how to draw from her uncle Charlie. She loved it. **_

_March 14, 2024 _

Ron folded up the bedsheets that usually inhabit his daughter's bed, but last night had been slept in by his brother, Percy and his wife, Audrey, both of whom insisted absolutely nothing had happened last night. He breathed in the familiar smells of light, honey-scented perfume and paint and books. The walls were a deep red with streaks of purple and black. A mural of a willow tree loomed in the corner, the work of almost ten years. Several easles and paint sets lay around and the dresser was scuffed and stained with bits of wax that never came up and streaks of various colours. His daughter had lived in this room for sixteen years. She would be eighteen in three days, an alarming thought. _Eighteen. _

Ron thought back to his eighteenth birthday, spent on the run, in a tent with Harry and Hermione, trying to get rid of the last Horcruxes. Because of him and Hermione and Harry, his daughter could spend her eighteenth birthday at Hogwarts safely with her boyfriend (much to Ron's chagrin) Scorpius Malfoy and her cousin, Albus.

Ron settled down on the twin bed with a sigh, wishing he could turn back the clock eighteen years, to those frantic days before Rose's birthday, when she had only been an idea, a dream, rather than this young woman. As he sat down, his foot hit something plush and soft. Bending over, he picked up a stuffed unicorn, once purple, but now grey and faded. The stuffing was a little limp and there were paint stains on this as well, but Ron recognised it clearly.

_Ron hands the toy to a seven year old Rose, who squeals, grabbing it with chubby arms. It wasn't her birthday or Christmas, just a spontaneous gift. Not unheard of in the Weasley household, but somewhat rare. _

"_Oh, thank you, Daddy!" she squealed before leaping to her feet to show her mother. _

Ron rubs a hand over the soft toy. He recalled how Rose had dragged the thing everywhere, naming it "Victor" (which had amused Ginny and Hermione to no end) and even talked Ron into tea parties, settled next to the purple unicorn. She had loved the thing for six years, sleeping with it every night and refusing to even take a bath if Victor wasn't waiting right outside.

And then, when Rose had started third year, Ron had found the unicorn sitting sadly on her bed. He had already begun losing fluff, sagging and drooping. When he asked Rose about it that Christmas, she insisted that she was "growing up" and didn't need Victor anymore. So Victor stayed on Rose's bed during the school year and tossed onto her dresser during the holidays. Gone were the days of tea parties and bedtime stories, Victor tucked into the crook of her elbow.

Sighing, Ron shook himself out of the old memories, setting the unicorn down on the bed softly. The unicorn seemed to give him a sad look, almost begging him to pick him up, hold him for just a few minutes. Like Ron. The fourty-four year old Weasley couldn't remember the last time he had received a hug from his daughter. Usually, when she came home, the only greeting was a quick peck on the cheek, a "hi daddy!" and then she rushed off to her room to draw.

The door opened, Hermione standing with her arms crossed, a sweet look on her face. She saw the longing on her husband's face, the way he stared at the floppy unicorn on the bed.

"Is that Victor?" she asked and he jumped, blinking at her. He nodded, patting the bed beside her. Sighing, she settled down next to him, picking up Victor. "I can't remember the last time I saw Rose even play with this. Seems like just yesterday we were bringing her home from the hospital and Harry was explaining about the best way to burp her. And now," Hermione took a deep, noisy breath, trying to ignore the tears. "now she's almost eighteen and she'll be graduating soon and leaving us."

"This must be what Mum was talking about, when she said it hurt to say good-bye to us lot." Ron mumbled, laying across the bed. Hermione also lay down, snuggling against him. "I always told myself I'd accept everything she did and I'd be the _wicked _dad that everyone liked and I'd never get weepy about this kind of stuff."

"And yet here we are in her room, talking about how much we're going to miss her." Hermione chuckled. "At least, when she grows up, she'll know it just means we care."

"That we've always cared."

_**Okay, kind of Daddy-daughter time with Rose and Ron, but Hermione's involved! They both are longing for their baby girl and decide to long together in her room! **_


	10. March 14, 2008 Kisses

_March 14, 2008 _

Hermione glanced at the calendar on the wall. March. Three more months until they would even begin giving her nervous glancing, three more months before Ron would follow her everywhere, asking questions, making sure she was okay. That she wasn't about to go into labor. Sighing, she flicked her wand at her tea, heating it up. Tendrils of smoke danced around her face as she took a sip. Ron had taken their not quite two year old daughter Rose over to Ginny's to play with Hermione's nephews. James and Albus, bordering on three and two, respectively. Their daughter, only a month old, most likely would be napping. Sweet, precious Lily.

Of course, having three months to go didn't exactly stop Ron from glancing at her nervously every few moments, asking if she was _sure _she was fine. It didn't help that this was their second child. Ron, any rational person would think, would surely be a little calmer the second time around. But, watching his best mate and his sister suffer through seven months of pregnancy, through the weeks in St. Mungo's, worrying over their little baby, knowing he could die at any moment. It did nothing to calm Ron down. He seemed to think that the baby currently bouncing away in her body would try the same thing as Albus, to come out much too early and scare the pants off everyone.

Hermione couldn't recall the last time she and Ron had kissed. _Really _kissed, not just friendly little pecks to say good morning and good night. He insisted upon it, uphold his crazy belief that anything more than little pecks would lead to the bed, thus possibly damaging their child. Perhaps he might be right, but there was also the chance that a kiss, a _real, actual kiss _would lead to just a feeling of release. But Ron wouldn't allow it and, so, Hermione resorted to humming off-key to herself, watching sappy romance movies with Ginny, eating tubs of ice cream like there was no tomorrow.

"Men," she grumbled to herself. "Don't know that what they want isn't always what they need." She slurped noisily at the rest of her tea, feeling much too large for the table. They had moved to the nice little house about five months ago, when the two bedroom flat turned out to not be big enough for their soon-to-be baby. She still sometimes forgot they weren't living in their flat and would wonder where in the name of Merlin the stairs had gotten to. Getting up, she clattered over to the sink, dropping the cup into the sink, deciding that Ron could do it later. After all, _he _wasn't pregnant and hormonal and horny as hell.

"Are you aware you talk outloud sometimes, Mione." said an amused voice behind her and she jumped (or as close to jumped as she could in this state) turning to look at Ron, who gave her a lopsided grin. "Do I really make you horny?" he asked teasingly.

"Seeing as you refuse to even bloody _kiss _me? I'd say pretty horny, yeah." she grumbled, not meeting his eyes. She reached up, taking Rose from his arms. She cooed, rolling in her sleep and nestling away from her mother. "Even Rose prefers to not touch me right now! Is there something about pregnant women that turns people off?" Frowning, Hermione stomped into Rose's bedroom, settling her down into the cot.

"I find you to be fairly sexy," said Ron throatily, having followed her into the room. "_Especially _now."

"And yet you refuse to even _kiss _me! A _kiss_, Ronald! It's not going to hurt the baby to just do this-" She shoved her lips at his, grabbing the back of his neck and pressing him closer. Her hands made little circles in his hair, rubbing against the back of his head and murmuring into his ear.

"Wow," stuttered Ron when Hermione finally released him, blinking. He gave her a startled grin and rubbed at his neck. "Wow," he said again. "Haven't done that in..."

"Four months, two weeks, and two days."

"Sorry, Mione. If it makes you feel any better, I've been getting kind of frustrated as well."

"No, it does not, Ronald Weasley. But this does," She kissed him again, deeper this time. It had an air of desperation behind it, filled with the passion from all those days she had gone without. The passion she had waited eighteen years for. The passion she could only get from one, Ronald Bilius Weasley.


End file.
